A Child's Wish

“He did?” Mark sat forward. “Do you mind if I see the letter?”

Of course she did. It was humiliating, difficult even to touch. She retrieved it anyway, handing it to him, envelope and all. And rinsed out the coffeepot while he read.

“This is definitely a threat.”

“I know.” Drying her hands, she came back over to sit with him.

“And it’s telling that the paper doesn’t mention that.”

“Probably.”

He folded the letter, returned it to the envelope and met her gaze. “I don’t like threats.”

“Me, neither.” She tried for a grin. “Especially when they’re aimed my way.”

He glanced down and then, with his head still lowered, looked up at her. “What do you intend to do?”

He wasn’t going to like it. “Nothing.” She’d done all there was to do. “I have a contract, Mark. I can’t be fired without proper—and documented—justification, a hearing by the school board and a chance to defend myself. If I’m made to leave I can sue the school district, and at this point I’d win hands down.”

“He’s not giving up, Meredith.”

“I know that.”

“And you think it’s good for the school—the kids—to draw this out?”

Meredith had to focus in order to breathe. Deep breaths, slowly, in and then out. Tension was normal to her. If she let it take control, however, she’d make poor decisions.

“There are many things at stake here.” She started speaking slowly, after she’d collected her thoughts. “My reputation is one of them, but not the most important factor. Since it’s an easy place to start, however, I’ll begin there. Resigning now would be tantamount to an admission of guilt. And what would that do to my chances of getting another teaching position?”

He said nothing, his thumb tapping against the rim of his mug. He appeared to be engrossed with the action.

“Would you hire someone who came to you with a forced resignation on her record?”

She took his silence for a no.

“Second, and neither is this the most important thing, it’s just plain wrong to let a bully win.”

“This isn’t the school playground.”

“Third…you know what he’s doing, don’t you?”

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Why don’t you just support me? The impression came—and went. Mark was Mark. He believed what he could see. And the fact that he was there, sitting in her kitchen at seven in the morning, was his way of showing support. He was there even though he thought what she’d done was wrong.

“All this ruckus, Mark… Do you think he’d be spending so much time and energy on one schoolteacher, if he didn’t have something to hide? Think about it. He moved his kid to another school, so Tommy’s not going to be affected by me. Why does he care—for the other kids? Has Larry Barnett ever shown one iota of concern for the children in this community? He says it’s to protect his reputation, but he was the one who made the whole thing public! If he’d kept his big mouth shut, no one would’ve known about this except Ruth Barnett, you and me.”

“And anyone his wife might have told. She believed you. He was afraid she might pursue an investigation,” Mark said slowly, as though following a new thought.

“And what would that matter, if he wasn’t guilty? It would’ve been done quietly, and then—assuming nothing was found—the issue would’ve disappeared and as he’d done all through the process of their divorce, he’d have claimed that she was emotionally overwrought. It’s his M.O. Make everyone else look bad in order to look good himself. It’s always the other guy who’s messing up because it couldn’t possibly be him. After all, he’s the district attorney.”

Meredith stopped, a bit embarrassed by her evident bitterness. She’d assumed she had a better handle on herself. On the whole Barnett situation. After all, she’d drowned him in half a bottle of wine.

“If I’m guilty of wrongdoing, so much so that I end up losing my job, he looks innocent. He’s an injured victim, deserving of sympathy and support.”

“What exactly are you saying here?” Mark asked, sitting forward, forearms on the table.

“He’s abusing his son, Mark. I’m certain of it.”